


Not personal

by hazzard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Philinda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzard/pseuds/hazzard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You were the one who started this in the first place. Don’t fucking stand there and say it wasn’t personal.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She’d known it’d be a bad idea.

That’s why shed’d kept away from him for all these years. Having sex would be easy. He was attracted to her, she knew he was. They were friends. They were comfortable around each other. He could read her, he’d know how to please her. She trusted him. He wouldn’t cross any line she wasn’t comfortable crossing. He’d respect her so much it’d almost irritate her, and at the same time, he wouldn’t be afraid to do everything in his power to make her purr.

She looked at him at times, while he was taking the team through the upcoming mission, or doing paperwork, or interrogating a suspect, and she’d get overwhelmed with desire and her breath would catch in her throat. Just watching him do his thing in his own special way made her knees weak. 

Damn, he had such power over her.

She hated how insecure he made her feel. She lost all control. Her body and mind would turn into a storm of… _something_ when he walked past her and she’d catch a whim of his smell.

She was already in way too deep.

Sleeping with him would only make her sink deeper.

Yet, she’d ignored the gnawing feeling in her stomach and she’d done it anyway.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

 

It’d happened so fast, she almost felt like it’d been a dream. She’d had a nightmare and went to his room to talk about it, like she’d done many nights before, but this time…

He hadn’t answered her call, but the door had been unlocked. When she’d gotten into the room she’d heard the shower running and sat down on his bed to wait for him, trying to ignore the thoughts of his naked body with water streaming down his skin. 

Then, the water had stopped.

She’d tensed up, bracing herself for whatever state of undress would get out the door.

The only thing he’d been wearing had been a towel.

He’d stopped in the doorway, staring at her.

She’d stared at the single drop of water travelling down his chest.

She hadn’t been able to stay strong anymore.

 

They hadn’t talked about it. She could tell he wanted to, but she ignored him. Better to write it off as a moment of weakness and move on.

She managed to keep away for way longer than she’d ever thought she’d get away with, but after three days, he grabbed her arm as she was walking out his office after the briefing.

His eyes weren’t filled with anger or blame, only concern. “Are you ok?”

Damn him and his good man behavior.

She tried shaking him off, avoiding his glance. “I’m fine.”

“Are _we_ ok?”

She forced herself to look at him. Fuck, the way he looked at her made her want to cry.

“Of course we are.” she said, keeping her voice steady. 

He grabbed her arm harder.

“Are you _kidding_ me? We are not fine! You haven’t talked to me since it happened!”

She wanted so badly to look away, to run. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Anger took over his features. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t lie and say it’s fine.”

“I can’t do this now.”

She couldn’t. She really couldn’t. She needed more time to regain some of that control that kept her safe.

He didn’t let go.

“No, you’re gonna talk to me. Tell me about your feelings.” he said and pulled her around to face him.

He was _pissed._

She scoffed. “My _feelings?_ Who’s saying there are any?”

Damn, this hurt. Why couldn’t he understand how much this hurt?

“So, we have sex, after _30 years_ of friendship, we sleep together, and you have no feelings about it?” he said, his voice hard but his eyes gave away that he wasn’t angry, he was hurt and _dammit, why wouldn’t he just let this go?_

“Why would it matter anyway?”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Why?”

He shook his head with a smile.

He broke her heart.

“I thought I mattered to you more than this.” he said quietly, looking down at the floor.

“More than what?”

His voice turned hard again. “You’re treating me like crap.”

He looked so tense. He pressed his lips together. She wanted to kiss them soft again.

“It’s not personal.”

He gasped and began rubbing his temples in frustration while looking at her in shock. “Not personal?”

He let out a little laugh. “ _Not personal?_ ”

“You were the one who started this in the first place. Don’t fucking stand there and say it wasn’t personal.” he said, the smile disappearing and the tension growing back.

She didn’t know what to say. His eyes forced her to look away. She couldn’t take this.

She crossed her arms over her chest, protecting herself.

She could hear him scoff. “You know what, you’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

She couldn’t look up. She knew that as soon she’d meet his disappointed face, she’d start crying. The tears were already building up in the corner of her eyes.

“Go. Just go.”

He sounded exhausted. Somehow, that was harder to take than the anger.

“I can’t take this right now.” He sat down at his desk and buried his face in his hands, before looking up again. He didn’t even glance her way. “I’ll be able to move past this in a couple of days. Just give me some time, and we can be partners again.”

She didn’t want that. She wanted to be allowed to love him.

She nodded slowly.

Then, she walked out the door. 

The tears started falling the minute she heard the door click behind her.

 

She got back to her room and tore off a page of her journal.

She hadn’t been able to talk. She’d _write._

 

“Phil,

It was a mistake. Not because I don’t care about you, but because I do.

I might be in love with you.

And, you know, it hurt when I realized that you’re not in love with me. But nothing can compare to the pain I felt when I saw you fall in love with her.

Or, I _thought_ nothing could compare to that.

And then you died.

I lost you twice. First to her, then completely.

I can’t take losing you.

Please understand.

I love you so much. Always have, always will.

Yours,

Melinda”

 

She grabbed a lighter from the nightstand and watched the piece of paper in her hand go up in flames, along with the piece of her heart that would always, always belong to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on a prompt.
> 
> comments/kudos make my day.
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> xx


	2. Her

He'd known it'd be a bad idea.

He should've known that she'd know better. He should've trusted her judgement. Because, of course, she was right. He'd known her since he was 18 years old, and he should've know she'd be right. She was _always_ right.

But sometimes when he was sitting at his desk with his paperwork, alone, like he'd been ever since he'd very stupidly brought everything up on the table, he wondered why she'd done it. He'd kept the distance. He'd loved her, he'd loved her every second of every day and he'd dreamed, but he'd kept away. They'd drawn up the boundaries for a reason. They'd never spoken about them, it'd been a mutual agreement. "Yes, we're best friends. Yes, we have this thing between us that makes it difficult to breathe when we look at each other for too long. Let's ignore that part, ok?"

They'd done so well.

And now she'd messed everything up.

 

He didn't know if he was more angry about what she'd done, or that she was still able to ignore how she'd traced his scar with her finger and then, when she'd realized what she was doing, quickly pulled away as if his skin had burned her.

He didn't know if it was worth not being the one who'd messed up when he'd lost her.

 

And, if he was honest, he _had_ messed up. He'd been selfish. He'd asked for too much. He should've taken what she'd given him, been thankful and then _shut up._ No pressure on her. No demands. He should've accepted the rules she'd given him, he should've been able to play her game. 

 

He buried his face in his hand and tried to silence the memories of her naked body that once again occupied his mind. They'd done that nonstop, every second, since he'd found out what it was like to desperately want something for most of your life and then getting it. All that memory reminded him of was that he'd lost it just as quickly. He'd lost not just that part, but everything.

 

No matter how hard he tried, the memories were still there. They were burned into his mind, like a tape on loop, playing over and over. Her on his bed. Her big eyes. Her slightly red cheeks. Her trying to look away. Her failing. Her knowing that he knew. Her looking at him with question and insecurity in her eyes. Her smile when he gave her his silent permission.

Her being so close he could feel her breath.

Her taste of tea and toothpaste.

Her hair in his hands. Her nibbling at his lips as he pulled off her black top. Her red bra. Her silky skin in his hands. Her licking the droplets on his chest away. Her grabbing him through the towel. Her putting a finger to his lips when he pulled away to try to talk. Her kissing him. Her smile against his lips as he lifted her up. Her legs around his waist. Her fingers in his hair. Her body falling back into the bed with a soft thud. Her eyes closing as he kissed her neck. Her underwear falling to the floor, next to his towel. Her groaning softly into his shoulder. Her eyes fluttering.

Her. Her. Her.

 

He took another sip of his whiskey to try to drown her in an alcohol induced fog of smoke, denial and suppressed heartbreak.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised to write something from Phil's POV.
> 
> so, here we are.
> 
> hope you enjoy, and as always, comments/kudos are golden.
> 
> take care xx


End file.
